Each hollowed-out coconut was filled with a mixture of boiled rice and jaggery (gur) through the small hole.

Then the coconut was chained to a stake, which was driven firmly into the ground.

And then we hid in the bushes in pin-drop silence.

Suddenly there was rattling sound.

My uncle switched on his torch.

A monkey was struggling, one hand trapped inside the coconut.

In an instant, Tito threw a gunny-bag over the monkey and within minutes we had the monkey nicely secured inside.

By the time we lit the campfire on the cool soft sands of the beach, we had captured three monkeys.

My uncle put his arm around my shoulder and, “Vijay, you know why the monkey gets trapped? The monkey gets trapped because of its greed.”

My uncle picked up a hollowed-out coconut and he explained to me: “Look at this hole. It is just big enough so that the monkey’s hand can go in, but too small for full fist filled with rice to come out. Because his greed won’t allow him to let go of the rice and take out his hand, the monkey remains trapped, a victim of his own greed, until he is captured; forever a captive of his greed.”

“The monkey cannot see that freedom without rice is more valuable that capture with it!” he said.

My uncle looked at Tito and commanded: “Free the monkeys.”

And, one by one, the monkeys jumped out of their gunny bags and started running, with one hand still stuck in a coconut.

It was a really funny sight.

“There is a lesson for us to learn from this,” my uncle said. “That’s why I brought you here to show you all this.”

I looked at my uncle. His name was Ranjit Singh. And true to his name he was indeed a magnificent man! Over six feet tall, well-built, redoubtable; a truly striking personality!

He stood erect in his khaki uniform, stroking his handsome beard with his left hand, his right hand gripping a swagger stick, which he gently tapped on his thigh.

As he surveyed the scenic surroundings - the moonlight sea, the swaying Casuarina trees, the silver sands of the beach in between - he looked majestic, like a king cherishing his domain.

Indeed he was like a king here – after all he was the Chief Forest Officer, in-charge of the entire islands – and this was his domain.

Uncle Ranjit was an exception in our family—the odd-man out.

My father always said that he was the most intelligent of all brothers.

But whereas all of them were busy achieving success and earning money in Mumbai and Delhi, uncle Ranjit had chosen to be different.

To the surprise of everybody else, uncle Ranjit had joined the Forest Service when he could have easily become an engineer, doctor or even a business executive, for he had always topped all examinations – first class first in merit, whether it be the school or the university.

“So, Vijay, you like it here?” he asked.

“It’s lovely, uncle,” I answered. “And thank you so much for the lovely holiday, spending so much time with me. In Mumbai no one has any time for me. I feel so lonely.”

“Why?” he asked, with curiosity.

“Mummy and Daddy both come late from office. Then there are parties, business dinners, and tours. And on Sundays they sleep, exhausted, unless there is a business-meeting in the club or golf with the boss.”

Uncle Ranjit laughed, “Ha. Ha. The Monkey Trap. They are all caught in monkey traps of their own making. Slaves of their greed! Trapped by their desires,caught in the rat race, wallowing in their golden cages, rattling their jewellery, their golden chains – monkey-trapped, all of them, isn’t it?”

As I thought over Ranjit uncle’s words I realized how right he was. Most of the people I knew in Mumbai were just like that – trapped by their greed, chasing rainbows, in search of an ever elusive happiness.

“Happiness is to like what you do as well as to do what you like,” uncle Ranjit said, as if he were reading my thoughts. “Happiness is not a station which never arrives, but the manner you travel in life.”

He paused, and asked me, “Tell me Vijay, tell me, what do you want to do in life?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Vijay. You are fifteen now. By next year you have to decide, tell me what your plans are.”

“It depends on my percentage,” I said truthfully.

“I am sure you will get around ninety percent marks in your board exams,” he said. “Assume you top the exams. Secure a place in the merit list. Then what will you do?”

“Of course,” I said. “I want to earn plenty of money so that I can enjoy life.”

Uncle Ranjit laughed, “My dear Vijay. Aren’t you enjoying life right now, at this very moment? What about me? Am I am not enjoying life? Remember - if you do not find happiness as you are, where you are, you will never find it.”

He smiled and asked me,” Vijay, you know what Maxim Gorky once said...?

“What?”

“When work is a pleasure, life is a joy. When work is a duty, life is slavery”

“Slavery!” I exclaimed, understanding the message he was trying to give me.

“Slavery to one’s elusive material desires, one’s greed, slavery to the rat race, chasing rainbows. And then live a life perpetually trapped in a Monkey Trap of your own making.”

“The Monkey Trap!” we both said in unison, in chorus.

It was the defining moment in my life – my Minerva Moment...!

And so, I decided that I will choose a career I loved, do something I liked, and experience an inner freedom.

And guess what I am today?

Well, I am a teacher. I teach philosophy.

And let me tell you I enjoy every moment of it. It’s a life of sheer joy and delight – being with my students, their respect and adulation, my innate quest for knowledge and a sense of achievement that I am contributing my bit to society.

I shall never forget uncle Ranjit and that crucial visit to the forests of the Andamans, the turning point, or indeed the defining moment, of my life.

This story is a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

Sometime ago I was invited to deliver a lecture at my erstwhile institution.

In the audience, comprising officers of the army, navy and air force, I noticed a familiar face.

She was wearing army uniform.

She was the only lady officer in the lecture hall.

“Hello,” I said to her, during the tea break, when she came to greet me, “what a pleasant surprise to see you in uniform. I did not know you had joined the army.”

“Yes Sir,” she said.

“Tell me, the last time we met, you were doing your computer engineering, weren’t you?” I asked her.

“Yes Sir,” she said.

“I thought you would join some Software Firm, work in the IT Sector – or maybe go abroad for further studies. So I am really surprised. What are you doing here in the army?”

“I am looking for a husband, Sir,” she said.

I almost choked, and the teacup nearly fell out of my hands.

Seeing the expression on my face, she said, “Sir, I will be frank with you. I have no illusions about how I look. There is too much competition in the Software Sector. In an IT firm, where there are so many attractive “Techie” girls, do you think that any decent boy will give me a second look?”

“Don’t say that. You look pretty and you are a smart young woman.”

“Beauty is all relative, isn’t it? Out there in the IT Sector, almost 50% are girls, so many beauties – there is just too much competition. Here, in an army unit, I am the only girl. Sir, just look there – see the way all those male officers are eyeing me?”

I looked.

She was right.

She was indeed the centre of attraction.

Most of the male officers were looking at her with undisguised affection. Some drooled in anticipation.

I looked at her, smiled and said, “You have a point.”

“You see – here, in the army, I have no competition, and I can pick and choose,” she said impishly.

“So you joined the army for better marriage prospects?” I asked.

“Yes, Sir – that is exactly why I joined the army – to find a good husband. You are quite surprised, aren’t you?” she said.

“Yes, at first I was surprised. But now I can understand. Your logic seems perfectly rational to me,” I said.

For some time we sipped tea.

“So have you found anyone?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes Sir – I have found quite a few prospective “fauji” grooms. Now I am shortlisting the candidates,” she said, with a naughty smile on her face.

“It’s a good career move too – both husband and wife in the army,” I said.

“Sir, to be frank, I am not a career type of girl. In fact, I want to get married, have children and settle down to a life of cozy domesticity.”

“What?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes, Sir. Once I get married, I will quit the army the moment my first short service commission tenure of 7 years is over – maybe even before that if they allow me to leave,” she said.

“You want to quit the army once you find a husband? So you joined the army just to find a husband?” I asked in amazement.

“Tell me sir, what can be better than being the wife of an army officer?” she said.

“You do have a point there. Being an army officer may be tough. But an army memsahibreally enjoys a good life,” I said.

“I always dreamt of being a faujimemsahiband living a good life – I love the ambience of the cool tranquil cantonments, the clubs, the parties, the social life, so many perks, and, most importantly, the batmen and sahayaks to do all your work,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Ah – batmen and sahayaks – so that’s why you did not join the navy.”

“Maybe,” she said tongue-in-cheek, “but there is one more reason.”

“What?”

“The competition is much tougher in the navy – there are so many women officers are in one place – and besides, you have to compete with the chic and savvy beauties in Mumbai – well, male naval officers have so much to choose from, and, frankly, I knew that with my looks, I just won’t stand a chance out there in the navy – here in the army, I am like a beauty queen,” she said, candidly.

Then she looked mischievously at me, gestured with her eyes at all the young male army officers ogling hungrily at her, and she said, “Sir, look at all those desperate faujiofficers. Almost every guy is looking at me, waiting for me to give them the slightest cue. Here, in the army, it is me who can pick and choose, isn’t it? As they say, I can have the pick of the litter ... !!!”

I laughed.

She laughed.

We laughed together.

Everyone was looking at us.

It was quite embarrassing.

Mercifully, the tea break was over, and we all went in for the remaining part of my lecture.

DO YOU WANT TO BE A “FAUJI MEMSAHIB” ?

Later, while driving home, I thought about it.

There was a ring of truth in what the smart young lady army officer had said.

Most women army officers seem inclined to marry their male colleagues (so-called “brother officers” in service parlance).

There are so many “in-service” marriages – it happens quite a lot in the army.

And I have seen such“incestuous” relationships between “brother officers” and “sister officers”happening in the navy and air force too, where erstwhile “sister officers” metamorphose into memsahibs.

Yes, in the army, today’s “sister officers” stand a good chance of becoming tomorrow’s memsahibs.

Maybe the army can coin new recruitment slogans for attracting young women into the army like:

“ Join the Army for Better Marriage Prospects ”

“ Join the Army and Find a Husband ”

or maybe an even better slogan

JOIN THE ARMY FOR “FAUJI MATRIMONY” – THE EASIEST WAY TO BECOME A “FAUJI MEMSAHIB”

1. This story is a spoof, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.

2. All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

This happened more than 30 years ago, when I was a “Babu” in uniform, pushing files in Delhi.

A smart young woman, maybe 20 or 21, entered my office.

The young woman said that she had been asked to report to me.

“Me?” I asked.

I looked at her appreciatively, since she was very beautiful.

She smiled coyly at the undisguised admiration in my eyes.

Then, demurely, she said, “Sir, you are the administrative officer…?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Sir, I am a new recruit LDC. I have got orders to join this office. I have come for the reporting interview.”

“Oh, please sit down,” I said.

She sat down and handed a folder to me.

The folder had her appointment letter and various certificates – educational, sports, dramatics.

I saw that she was a very intelligent, well qualified and talented girl.

She had done her schooling in a KV and her graduation from a prestigious college.

She seemed overqualified and over-talented for this job of a LDC (Lower Division Clerk.

I looked at the young woman and said: “You have done so well in your graduation – you have a first class with distinction – and you have so many talents and you have excelled in so many extra-curricular activities. You should study further. Or you should try to become an officer somewhere. Why don’t you give the civil services or banking exam or try for some Class 1 Officer’s post? Why do want to do this clerical job?”

“To improve my marriage prospects,” she said, matter-of-factly.

When I heard this incredulous answer, I was struck dumb.

I looked at her in silence, not knowing what to say.

“Sir, please don’t get angry – I am not joking. It is the truth. This is the real reason that I am taking up this clerical job – to improve my marriage prospects,” she said.

“Can you please explain to me how doing this LDC job is going to help your marriage prospects?” I asked, curious.

“Yes, Sir. I will explain to you. Sir, I am the fourth daughter from a lower middle class family. My father works here in the secretarial service. He joined as an LDC and is a Section Officer now. He is retiring next year. He wants to get me married before he retires. He wants to finish off all his responsibilities before he goes back to his village to settle down there,” she said.

“So?”

“This is a non-transferable job, Sir, and I will remain in Delhi throughout my life. It will be easy for them to find a suitable boy in the same service – some LDC or maybe an UDC. Both of us will be working in offices here in the secretariat only. We will never be transferred out of Delhi. And we will get quarters in Delhi where we can stay for our entire careers. It is all so convenient.”

“Come on,” I said, “You will easily get an Officer husband.”

She blushed at the disguised compliment and said, “I know Sir. But we can’t afford the dowry for a high status match. It is best for us to remain within our class. Here, everyone wants a girl with a secure, easy and non-transferable “9 to 5” five day week government job like this one. Besides, if I get someone from the same service, he will be elder than me and also senior to me, so he will get more pay than me and there will be no ego problems.”

I looked at her.

I had never seen so much candidness before.

I smiled at her and said, “I really appreciate your talking to me so honestly. Welcome to the office. I am sure you will do well.”

Six months later she came to give me the good news.

Her marriage was fixed to a UDC working the neighbouring office.

In fact, it was a love marriage – love cum arranged – she had liked the boy and she told her parents and they had fixed the match.

Soon she would be married and her father would retire peacefully, all his familial duties done.

Then she and her UDC husband would get a government quarter nearby where they would probably live for the next 40 years, till they both retired, hopefully as Section Officers.

They could look forward to a blissful married life, commuting up and down to office together, and have a stress-free unexciting secure working life, getting slow and steady time bound promotions, and enjoying all the benefits that come with a government job.

Years passed, I got transferred all over, did so many appointments, met so many people, and this story went into a remote recess of my memory.

Then, almost 30 years later, another interesting incident happened, and suddenly I remembered this story.

I will tell you all about that hilarious incident in my next Blog Post.

Till then, tell me what you think of this story – especially if you are a woman – “Do Women take up a Job to improve their Marriage Prospects?”

1. This story is a spoof, pure fiction, just for fun and humor, no offence is meant to anyone, so take it with a pinch of salt and have a laugh.

2. All stories in this blog are a work of fiction. Events, Places, Settings and Incidents narrated in the story are a figment of my imagination. The characters do not exist and are purely imaginary. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Copyright Notice:

No part of this Blog may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Blog Author Vikram Karve who holds the copyright.

About Me

A creative person with a zest for
life, Vikram Karve is a retired Naval Officer turned full time writer. Educated
at IIT Delhi, IIT (BHU) Varanasi, The Lawrence School Lovedale and Bishops School
Pune, Vikram has published two books:COCKTAILa collection of fiction short stories about relationships
(2011) andAPPETITE FOR A STROLLa
book of Foodie Adventures (2008) and is currently working on his novel, writing short fiction and compiling his memoirs. An avid
blogger, he has written a number of fiction short stories, creative
non-fiction articles on a variety of topics including food, books, travel, philosophy, academics, technology, management, health, pet parenting, teaching stories, self help and art of living essays in magazines and journals and published a number of professional research papers and reviews and edited in-house magazines and journals for many years, before the advent
of blogging. Vikram has taught at a University as a Professor for 15 years and now teaches as a visiting faculty and devotes most of his time to
creative writing and blogging. Vikram Karve lives in Pune India with his family and muse -
his pet dog Sherry with whom he takes long walks thinking creative
thoughts.